


Burning

by tatooinesun



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Cuddling & Snuggling, F/M, Fluff, Massage, Pregnancy, post Inquisition
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-28
Updated: 2015-02-28
Packaged: 2018-03-15 13:50:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,157
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3449480
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tatooinesun/pseuds/tatooinesun
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>One-shot Post DA:I Pregnancy fluff. Cullen and the Inquisitor find a way to keep warm.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Burning

Skyhold is cold at the best of times but in the winters it’s absolutely dismal. The mountains draw a chilly breeze that no amount of furs or insulation can stifle and the occupants of the isolated fortress usually choose to live and let live, despite the frigid after dark temperatures that force them to burrow a little deeper into their sheets at night or stoke another log or two into the fire. On evenings such as these Liadan, far more accustomed to warmer climates, usually finds shelter in the crook of Cullen’s arm who for all intents and purposes is a human furnace and she absorbs what heat she can from his cradling embrace.

It’s different tonight however as it has been for the past few months what with this massive belly protruding beneath her tunic - fit to burst is Dorian’s preferred phrasing, usually conveyed with a smirk and a wink. Such a predicament often renders certain sleeping arrangements inadequate, both Liadan and Cullen finding it nearly impossible to curl up together like they used to without some sort of discomfort.

“It has to be twins,” Josephine had chirped just that morning when the Inquisitor had waddled late into the war room, in a mood far more suited to reclining in a hot bath than pouring over scattered reports. “You’re simply too big.”

“Why thank you,” she had replied dryly though unable to prevent the small smile that came with the prospect of more than one surprise – and yet is frankly daunted by it nevertheless.

Cullen has been frantic enough as it is with the promise of a singular child. Convinced that Skyhold is far from infant appropriate he has invested much of his time into making sure preparations are in order, overseeing everything from the makeshift nursery to the frequency of his soldier’s cursing – all of this and yet still he finds the time to constantly hover over Liadan, at her beck and call whenever she shows a trace of exhaustion, a sliver of disorientation.

“I love you Cullen but I’m going to have to kill you,” she has to inform him on more than one occasion, fending off his consistent hovering with exasperation. “I’ve fought rage demons, dragons and ancient darkspawn. I can handle carrying your child.”

And yet she has never seen her husband more excited – babbling aimlessly over the mere anticipation of being a father to anyone who lends an ear. It’s put a youth in his eyes that she’s never seen before and what nightmares he previously had are few and far in-between.

Not to say he still doesn’t wake during the night in a nervous sweat, blinking rapidly as his face contorts from that of terror to relief as he takes in his tangible surroundings. She often leans over him, bringing a hand to wipe the damp curls from his face with a look of concern, murmuring words of comfort until his heavy breathing slows and he either relays his nightmare to her or descends back into sleep.

Ironic how tonight she is the one losing sleep, though over something far less sinister. Deciding she’ll get no further rest with her aching body and the blasted cold, Liadan casts a fervent glance to Cullen – dead to the world in a peaceful slumber, mouth slightly ajar and an arm skewed in her direction – before hoisting herself from their bed, wobbling slightly as she rises to her feet, still unused to the added weight. The floor is cold beneath her feet and she shutters despite herself, pulling her nightwear tighter around her shoulders before eyeing Cullen’s fur rimmed coat hanging from the bed post and deciding to adorn that as well. Not only does it provide significantly more warmth, the familiar scent of what is so distinctly Cullen is comforting to her, even if it’s only been a mere few hours sense she’s last inhaled it. 

Summoning what strength she can in her exhausted stupor she draws her hands together and conjures a small flame, nurturing it in her palms as she pads barefoot across the floor of their quarters, suddenly in need of fresh air despite her still freezing body protesting with a shiver.

The balcony has been her safe haven for many a year, be it to escape overzealous nobles or simply the day to day drudgery that comes with being the leader of the Inquisition. Of course she has no complaints about her position; she’s found a new life under the familiar banner – a sense of purpose, a place to call home and a family both in the metaphorical and literal sense. For all the destruction it wrought, she wouldn’t trade the destiny her mark had given her for the world. Here she stands, three years after the defeat of Corypheus on the dawn of a new beginning, a child soon to be born and a change on the horizon.

“You’ll catch your death out here.” She turns at the sound of his voice, finding a familiar smile that doesn’t quite meet his eyes as he gazes at her from where he is propped against the doorway. From his position she can only assume he’s been standing there for some time and she immediately feels guilty for waking him. She knows how precious a peaceful night is. “Can’t sleep?” His eyes drift from her face to her stomach, concern laced together by his strained smile.

“What’s the phrase again, no rest for the wicked?” She throws him a grin she hopes is reassuring before turning back to the railing, supporting her arms against the stone and humming contentedly as she feels him come behind her and rest a hand to the curve of her waist. “You don’t have to get out of bed on my account.”

He ignores her, persisting to encircle her in his arms before tucking her head beneath his chin. “I think I like this new look of yours,” he speaks with a quick ruffle of his fingers through the fur rimmed collar of his coat that she sports. Her laugh is cut short by a sudden lurch in her stomach and she scrunches her face up against the sensation, determined not to let Cullen catch on.

She knows he’s aware of the façade she puts on and watches him dance around whether or not to press the issue. He seems to settle on a happy medium however. “So how’s our little one doing? Or little two to hear Josephine talk.” His tone is neutral but his eyes scream please let me fret over you. 

“I was wondering how long that’d take you. The baby’s fine, just a little restless,” she assures him gently, grateful he seemingly maintains his composure even if he may be conflicted beneath the surface. Sighing she seizes his wrist and brings his hand to rest at the curve of her belly, watching his face light up with boyish delight as the baby within her stirs yet again.

“Restless little one, I’ll give them that,” Cullen chuckles, leaning forward to place a chaste kiss against her jaw.

“Hmmm I wonder where they get that from,” she comments innocently, reveling in the warmth his lips bring to her clammy flesh.

“Maker’s breath but you’re freezing,” he breathes into her neck, bringing his hands from her bump to run the length of her arms, causing friction in an attempt to warm her. She trembles despite this and that seems to be the last straw for Cullen, reaching down before hoisting her into his arms bridal style and carrying her in the direction of their much warmer bed. She shivers as a gust of wind proceeds them and he presses a heated kiss to her brow. “Don’t worry, I’ll keep you warm.”

Still enraptured by his coat, her husband gently settles her to the bed, taking care to secure a pillow beneath her head before retracting his touch momentarily. She moans at the loss of contact but is soothed quickly as she feels his hands - calloused from years of supporting a sword and a shield - trace the tips of her toes before dipping to her arches and kneading them tenderly. 

It’s positively divine and she feels the tension depart from her aching feet entirely. Where did he ever learn to do that?

“Let me guess – top secret ancient templar technique? Very hush hush?”

He chuckles softly before glancing up at her sheepishly. “Is it…alright?”

“More than alright, please don’t stop.”

He persists with the foot massage for several minutes before departing her ankles and moving his hands further, brushing across her knees and thighs, pressing his way beneath the coat to meet the bare skin of her naval, paying special heed to her raised belly with a kiss and a few whispered words before continuing on with his journey, finally seeking her shoulders. It’s awkward to lean over her given her current state and so he accommodates by stretching alongside her, both hands carefully massaging her shoulders before seeking her lips properly. The first kiss is innocent, a mere peck to test the waters, a taste of what’s to come. The second is more drawn out, wanting and passionate as he cups her face with palm of his hands before hesitantly pulling away. Her eyes remain shut and she sighs contentedly as his hands behind to work their magic once again over her flesh, pushing and pulling and soothing her tension until it dissipates completely.

To gain more leverage he rids her of the heavy coat from her shoulders and she shivers when it’s relieved of her, not because of the icy draft that meets her skin but the vast intensity of his gaze as he takes all of her in. Her nightgown is sheer, making it not much use of all other than leaving nothing up to the imagination. She can’t imagine she looks anything close to captivating – her breasts feel sore and turgid, her belly massive and misshapen and her eyes dark and ringed from her lack of sleep. And yet despite this he leans forward and presses kisses from her eyes all the way down to the curve of her stomach. “Beautiful,” he murmurs against her skin and she wants to cry from happiness because never in her wildest dreams would she have known that the brisk Commander she had met all those years ago could ever become so important to her.

In between applying pressure to her exposed shoulders and chest he presses his lips lightly across her skin, trailing everywhere from the crook of her shoulder to the curve of her breast. His warmth is everywhere, cascading across her and around her and within her and once more she can’t help but wonder how he’s just so damn good at this.

“Alright spill Commander,” she states as his hands disappear under the hem of her gown to massage her thighs. “What’s with the magic fingers?”

“Isn’t that your territory?”

“You know what I mean.”

He sighs, shimming up from his place at her thighs, his face bright red as he lays beside her, supporting his chin with his hand.

“You’ll laugh at me.”

“Probably but tell me anyway.”

He chuckles deeply, taking a strand of her hair in his hands. “Well I was in the library earlier and er, Dorian made a few book recommendations.”

“Oh did he now?” Liadan raised an eyebrow. “Pray tell.”

Cullen’s amber gaze shifts in the direction of the end table near his side of the bed where a book lay open across the surface. She passes him a curious glance before crawling towards it – albeit ungracefully – and turning the book over to peek at its cover.

“Appeasing a Woman with Child?” she glances over at his crimson face before bursting into a fit of laughter. He grins sheepishly at her before plucking the book grasp and pulling her into his arms.

“My my, what scandalous reading material for an ex templar.”

“Scandalous indeed,” he murmurs, rubbing his hand on the back of his neck. “I’m certain he intended for it to be a joke but the idea seemed…useful at the time.”

“Well it certainly worked,” she said with a yawn, stretching her arms before planting a kiss to his cheek. “I haven’t been this appeased in months.”

She’s about to delve in for a deeper kiss this time when suddenly a brash knock on the door breaks the silence and they both turn to the interruption with equally annoyed expressions upon their faces.

“Commander there’s a report for you Sir,” the solider calls, voice muffled behind the thick oak door.

She glances down at her lover to find a frustrated look in his eyes.

“Maybe if we ignore him he’ll go away,” he suggests feebly, bringing her hands forward to run his lips along her knuckles before falling back onto the bed and pulling her astride him.

“I like this side of you.”


End file.
